Part 1 · Chapter 8Mobilis in Mobili

Mobilis in Mobili. This crazy snatching, done so roughly, happened super fast - like lightning. I totally shivered. Who were we dealing with? Probably some new kind of pirates, exploring the sea their own way.

Hardly had the narrow panel closed behind me when I was plunged into total darkness. My eyes, still adjusting from the bright light, couldn’t make out anything. I felt my bare feet gripping the rungs of an iron ladder. Ned Land and Conseil, grabbed tight, followed me.

At the bottom of the ladder, a door swung open and slammed shut with a loud bang.

We were alone. Where? I couldn’t even guess. It was pitch black - so dark that after a few minutes, my eyes couldn't even pick up the faintest glimmer.

Meanwhile, Ned Land, furious about all this, let loose with his anger.

"Seriously?!" he yelled. "These guys are less hospitable than the Scots! They almost missed out on eating us. I swear, they won’t eat me without a fight."

"Chill out, Ned, chill out," replied Conseil calmly.

"Don’t freak out before anything actually happens. We’re not done for yet."

"Not quite," the Canadian shot back, "but pretty close, at least. Things look bleak. Luckily, I still have my bowie knife, and I can always see well enough to use it. The first of these pirates who tries to lay a hand on me - - "

"Don’t get worked up, Ned," I said to the harpooner.

"Don’t put us all in danger with some pointless fight. Maybe they’ll listen to us. Let’s try to figure out where we are."

I felt around. In just a few steps, I bumped into an iron wall, made of bolted-together plates. Then, turning back, I ran into a wooden table, with a few stools nearby. The floor of this cell was covered with a thick mat of phormium, which muffled the sound of our footsteps.

The bare walls showed no sign of a window or door. Conseil, going the other way, met me, and we went back to the middle of the cabin, which was about twenty feet by ten. Even Ned Land, who was tall himself, couldn’t guess how high it was.

About half an hour had passed, and our situation hadn’t improved, when the total darkness suddenly gave way to blinding light. Our prison was suddenly lit up - filled with this crazy luminous stuff that was so bright I had to squint.

In its white glow, I recognized the electric light that had played around the submarine boat like an amazing display of glowing phosphorescence. After instinctively closing my eyes, I opened them and saw that this light came from a half globe, unpolished, placed in the ceiling of the cabin.

"Finally, I can see!" yelled Ned Land, who, knife in hand, stood ready.

"Yeah," I said, "but we’re still in the dark about ourselves."

"Master needs to be patient," said the unflappable Conseil.

The sudden lighting of the cabin let me examine it closely. It only had a table and five stools. The invisible door could be sealed tight. No sound was heard. Everything seemed dead inside this boat. Was it moving?

Was it floating on the surface of the ocean, or diving into its depths? I couldn’t tell.

Then, we heard the sound of bolts being thrown, and the door opened, and two men appeared.

One was short, really muscular, broad-shouldered, with strong limbs, a strong head, a lot of black hair, a thick mustache, a quick, sharp look, and the lively energy that you see in people from Southern France.

This other guy deserved a way better description. Someone who knew their stuff - like a follower of Gratiolet or Engel - would’ve read his face like an open book.

I could immediately pick up on his vibe: he was confident, head held high, with cool, steady eyes that scanned the room; calm, his skin a little pale but showing he didnn't get rattled easily; energetic, with brows that furrowed quickly; and brave, because his deep breaths showed he was strong.

I couldn't tell if he was in his mid-thirties or fifties. He was tall, with a big forehead, a straight nose, a well-defined mouth, and really nice teeth. He had long, slender fingers, which suggested he was a nervous type. Seriously, he was the most impressive person I’d ever met.

But the thing that stood out the most were his eyes - they were set pretty far apart, and he could basically take in a huge chunk of the horizon at once.

This skill - and I checked it out later - gave him a way better range of vision than Ned Land’s. When he focused on something, his eyebrows would meet, and his big eyelids would close, narrowing his focus.

It looked like he was zooming in on things far away, like he could see through the water that seemed so murky to us, and read the very depths of the ocean.

The two strangers, wearing otter-fur caps and seal-skin boots, were dressed in clothes that let them move freely. The taller one, clearly the leader, studied us closely without saying a word. Then, he turned to his friend and started talking in a language I didn’t recognize.

It was a really smooth, melodic language, with vowels that had tons of different sounds.

The other guy replied with a shake of his head and added a couple of words that made absolutely no sense. Then, he looked at me like he was asking a question.

I told him in good French that I didn’t understand his language, but he seemed totally lost. Things were getting awkward fast.

"Maybe if master told our story," said Conseil, "these guys might catch a few words."

I started recounting our adventures, pronouncing every syllable clearly and leaving out nothing. I introduced myself, Professor Aronnax, my buddy Conseil, and our fearless harpooner, Ned Land.

The guy with the calm, steady eyes listened quietly, almost politely, and with a lot of attention. But nothing in his face showed that he got any of it. When I finished, he didn’t say a thing. Our last hope was to try English. Maybe they knew that almost universal language.

I knew it pretty well - I could read it fluently, but my speaking skills weren’t great. But we had to try.

"Go ahead," I said to Ned; "use your best Anglo-Saxon and do better than I did."

Ned didn't back down and started telling our story again.

To his frustration, he didn't seem any more understandable than I had been. Our visitors didn't even flinch. They clearly didn't understand a word of Arago or Faraday.

Totally stumped after we’d exhausted all our language options, I didn’t know what to do when Conseil said -

"If master will let me, I’ll tell it in German."

But even with the fancy words and good accent, German didn’t work either. Finally, completely lost, I tried to remember my first Latin lessons and retell our adventures, but it was still a bust.

Seeing that this last attempt failed, the two strangers exchanged a few words in their unknown language, and then left. The door slammed shut.

"This is a seriously messed-up situation," cried Ned Land, who was freaking out for the twentieth time.

"We’re talking to these guys in French, English, German, and Latin, and not one of them even bothers to answer!"

"Chill out," I said to the hot-headed Ned.

"Getting angry isn’t going to help."

"But do you see, Professor," our grumpy companion replied, "that we’re going to starve to death in this metal box?"

"Whatever," said Conseil, trying to stay positive.

"We can hold out for a while yet."

"Look, guys," I said, "we can’t lose hope. We’ve been in worse spots than this. Just give the captain and crew of this boat a little time before you judge them."

"My opinion is already made up," replied Ned Land, sharply. "They’re jerks."

"Okay, and where are they from?" "From the land of jerks!"

"My brave Ned, that country isn’t exactly marked on the map; but I have to admit, it’s tough to figure out their nationality. They’re definitely not English, French, or German - that’s for sure. I’m guessing they’re from somewhere warm. There’s a southern vibe to them."

"But I can’t tell if they’re Spanish, Turkish, Arabian, or Indian just by looking. And their language is totally confusing."

"That’s the downside of not knowing every language," said Conseil, "or the downside of not having one universal language."

As he said those words, the door opened. A waiter came in. He brought us clothes - coats and pants - made of some kind of fabric I’m not familiar with. I quickly got dressed, and my companions followed suit.

During that time, the waiter - maybe he couldnn't hear or talk - had set the table and put out three plates.

"This is actually not bad," said Conseil.

"Whatever," said the bitter harpooner. " What do you think they feed us here? Turtle liver, shredded shark, and steaks from sea dogs?" "We’ll see," said Conseil.

The dishes, made of some dark metal, were placed on the table, and we sat down. Definitely, we were dealing with civilized people. If it wasn't for the bright lights, I could have sworn I was in the dining room of the Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool, or the Grand Hotel in Paris.

But, there was no bread or wine. The water was fresh and clear, but it wasn’t Ned Land’s thing. Amongst the dishes, I recognized several fish prepared nicely; but some of them were excellent, even though I couldn't guess what kind of animal or plant they were. The dinnerware was elegant and stylish.

Each utensil - spoon, fork, knife, plate - had a letter engraved on it, with a motto above it, which looked like this: - MOBILIS IN MOBILI N. The letter N was probably the initial of the name of the mysterious guy who was running things at the bottom of the sea.

Ned and Conseil weren’t thinking much about it. They devoured the food, and I did too. I was also feeling better about our situation; it seemed clear that our hosts weren’t planning to let us starve.

But, everything comes to an end, everything passes. Even the hunger of people who haven't eaten in fifteen hours. Our appetites satisfied, we felt totally exhausted.

"Seriously, I’m gonna sleep like a log," said Conseil. "Me too," replied Ned Land.

My two companions just flopped down on the cabin floor and were totally out in no time. I couldn’t sleep, though. So many thoughts were swirling around in my head - stuff I couldn't figure out, crazy ideas that kept me staring at the ceiling. Where were we, anyway?

What weird power was moving us along? I felt - or maybe I just thought I felt - the machine dropping down, way down, to the very bottom of the ocean. Seriously scary nightmares hit me.

In those strange places, I saw a whole world of animals I’d never seen before, and this submarine seemed like just another one of them, alive, moving, and pretty intimidating. Then my brain started to chill out, my imagination drifted off, and I finally crashed, falling into a super deep sleep.